Little Green Monster
by Ijemanja
Summary: The red corvette parked outside her house is her first clue. HouseCuddy


Summary: The red corvette parked outside her house is her first clue. (Huddy. One-shot.)

Author: Ijemanja

Title: Little Green Monster

* * *

She lets herself in, shuts the door behind her, sets her keys and bag on the table and that's when she realises that the kitchen light is on. It's her second clue.

The first, of course, being the red corvette parked outside.

The kitchen light isn't the only one on, she finds as she makes her way through the house. Light spills out into the hall from the bedroom, and when she steps inside she leaves her shoes by the door, adds her jacket to this week's dry-clean-only pile and that's when a dry voice comes from the bed.

'Even your laundry is anal.'

She looks down at him, relaxed and quite at home reclining against her pillows.

'What are you doing here?'

'And they say there's no such thing as a stupid question. Now we know better, don't we?'

'I really need to move that key,' she says to herself, casting her eyes to the ceiling.

He just continues grumbling at her as she moves around the room.

'What took you so long, anyway? I got so bored waiting I almost took matters into my own hands. I was just about to take a nose dive into your underwear drawer and go nuts.'

She stops in the process of taking off an earring and stares at him. 'You show up unannounced, let yourself in, and expect to get laid according to your own schedule? You have some vastly ill-conceived notions about how this,' she gestures between the two of them, 'Works.'

'Fine. You're cranky, I'm inconsiderate. But what can you possibly do at that place that you can't leave at a reasonable hour?' he demands.

'Not all of us can walk out the door at five whenever we feel like it.'

'You are not that vital to the running of the hospital,' he insists. 'No matter what you'd like all us mere mortals to think.'

'Anyway,' she ignores his crack at her position - because really what's the point - and turns away to finish removing her jewellery, 'What makes you think I was at work all this time?'

There's a pause, as he takes a moment to figure it out. When he speaks there's something like amusement in his tone.

'You were on a date,' he says. He cranes his head, then, to look her up and down. She watches in the mirror as his gaze travels to the doorway. 'The shoes. Those aren't your usual work shoes.'

She takes the pins from her hair next and doesn't respond. They are nice shoes, but she wishes she'd had time to come home and change first, anyway. After all, dressed-up work clothes are still just work clothes, no matter how good she looks in them.

'Can't have been a very good one,' he says next. 'It's late, but it's not _that_ late.'

'I'm going to take a shower,' she announces.

'Right now?' The impatience in his voice makes her smirk. 'Don't bother.'

She shakes her head at him. 'I've been up since five-thirty this morning, so I think I will bother, actually.'

'Feeling less than fresh? Or maybe,' he goes on, 'You did something naughty tonight and you need to hide the evidence.'

She shrugs at that. Let him wonder. 'Maybe I did.'

'Well since I don't care about your numerous conquests, tonight's included, forget the shower. Come here.'

It doesn't much sound like a request, and she looks at him for a moment, thinking about it.

On the one hand, he's being belligerent and demanding - though really, what else is new? And on the other, he's naked in her bed and that's not something she's ever had a problem with.

Decision made, she continues undressing - top pulled up over her head, skirt unzipped, stockings peeled off. And when she feels she's made him wait long enough, that's when she goes and stands over the bed.

He looks up at her from his reclined position.

'You didn't sleep with him,' he says, his tone confident.

'Sure about that?' she replies, hands on hips, because of all the things that irritate her about him, it's the self-assurance, the always being right, that gets her every time.

His eyes travel over her for a moment, and then he tugs on her wrist until she gives in and climbs onto the bed. He sits up to meet her, and then he leans in, close but not yet touching, and the next thing she's aware of is him inhaling deeply.

'No sex for you tonight,' he declares.

He's just a little too cheerful about it, and so she shoots back: 'Careful you don't hear me saying the same thing.'

He pulls back with a smirk. 'Well you did already turn down one prospective partner tonight - so what do I have that he doesn't?'

'An over-inflated ego?'

'Modesty in a man - I can see how an over-bearing personality like yours would find that appealing. Just not appealing enough, apparently.'

'If you say so.'

'Don't feel like spilling all the juicy details?' His fingers drift across her stomach then, curl around her waist and pull her towards him. 'Well then, let's see, just how good was Cuddy's date?'

'It was magical,' she deadpans against his shoulder.

'Non-smoker,' he counters, his face in her hair. 'Not too heavy on the cologne - always a good sign.'

He kisses her, and draws out a few more answers with his tongue in her mouth.

'Red wine. Something chocolate-y for dessert. You felt comfortable enough to indulge yourself. Or else you'd already decided by that point not to see him again, so you just didn't care.'

'But I suppose you know which?'

'Leather,' is his reply as he breathes her in again, his lips brushing her collar bone. 'His jacket, or his car?'

'That was me. My dominatrix routine? Gave him the full work-up.'

'His car,' he decides. 'Nice restaurant - suit and tie only, no leather jacket. No whips or chains, either, as a general rule,' he adds.

'He had a nice car,' she tells him then, as he's reaching around to unfasten her bra. 'Much nicer than the mobster-mobile.'

He pauses in the act of tossing her bra across the room. 'Oh, you did not just insult the 'vette.'

'I'm pretty sure I did.'

Then he reminds her that, useless leg or not, with his weight and his size and his male upper-body strength, he can still get physical when he wants, and win. And she finds herself face down with a heavy arm slung over her back and his face hovering near her ear.

'Nice car you say - some imported limited-edition Eurotrash, no doubt,' he sneers.

'And I bet he paid for it himself, too,' she bites back, wriggling under his weight.

'Hmm,' he rumbles, 'He's well-off, then.'

'I'd say so,' she says, hating the breathy sound of her voice, because one thing he doesn't need to know is how turned on she is right now.

'Attractive guy?'

'Very attractive.'

'I'm assuming desperate-docs-dot-com came through - so, doctor?'

'Doctor,' she confirms.

'So we have a rich, attractive doctor with a flashy car, and yet here you are, putting out for me instead.'

'I guess rich and attractive just isn't my type,' she drawls, and drops her head laughing when his teeth sink into her shoulder in retaliation.

'I liked him,' she says then, though whether she says it for his benefit or her own is anyone's guess. 'Enough to say yes when he asked to see me again.'

'Yeah, but I'm thinking you didn't even let him get to second base.' His hand steals round her ribcage, insinuating itself between the mattress and her body. 'Poor guy would be so disappointed to find out you really are that kind of girl.'

She tries to turn and look at him, but a hand on her shoulder urges her back down until she relents.

'God, you're a bastard,' she mumbles into her forearm.

'And you're a philandering pain in the ass. We're perfect for each other.'

He says it carelessly, flippantly, the way he makes all of his most outrageous statements. But the thing is, there are actually times when she thinks they might be. Not that she'll never tell him that, of course.

Instead, she focuses on the part where he's accusing her of cheating.

'Philandering, huh? You can't betray someone you've never made any promises to.'

'No,' he agrees, brushing her hair to the side and lowering his lips to the nape of her neck. 'Still,' he muses idly against her skin, 'You're lucky I'm not the jealous type.'

'Yes,' she says, her tone a strange mix of sarcasm and sincerity as his hand glides down her spine. 'Lucky me.'

end


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